


Lone

by pogopop



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pogopop/pseuds/pogopop
Summary: Matt flicks the sharp corner of the photo with the tip of his thumb. He had intended to go straight to their offices, but now he feels like he’s holding a bomb. How is it that the knowledge of what is printed on this paper has suddenly reopened the chasm of his grief, cleaving him anew? He’s used to ghosting through life, being half a man, trying to find a place for himself, the lone Murdock boy. He thought he had this. But suddenly he’s nine years old again, newly blinded and so alone. He gets up before he starts crying, carefully slides the photo into his breast pocket and leaves the church. His feet lead him in the direction of his apartment.________What if Mike was a real boy?





	Lone

Matt sends a text to Foggy:

**_I’ll be late this morning, but I’ll be in_ **

He dresses with care in his black suit, freshly back from the drycleaners. Taking care in his appearance is a sign of respect, one of the few options he has left.

Foggy replies quickly: 

**_Sure thing, buddy. Take all the time you need. LMK when you’re on the way and I’ll have a coffee with your name on it_ **

Matt doesn’t bother responding. Foggy knows and understands what today is to Matt. Or, he thinks he does. 

The church is quiet, outside of regular service times on this weekday morning. Matt pauses to cross himself, then lights a candle, leaving his hand on the glass holder, feeling it warm up. He finds himself a seat, away from the aisle and close to a pillar. He knows well enough that he’ll still be visible, and Maggie will find him soon. 

This is the first year they will meet in their shared yet totally separate loss. Matt thinks that he should care about her perspective, but he doesn’t. Twenty years down the track, Matt knows that this loss is something that has profoundly shaped him and which he will never be able to truly move beyond. 

She slides in next to him but doesn’t say anything when he turns his head slightly in acknowledgement. She smells of diapers, incense and bleach. Out of nowhere, the organ pipes fill with air and then the opening strains of  _ Amazing Grace  _ boom across the church - the organist practising. Matt scrunches up his nose and Maggie huffs quietly. 

“You’re 29.” It’s not a question. Matt nods, and she turns, her habit sliding over the polished wood of the pew, so her body is facing his. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Matt closes his eyes and tips his face to the heavens. “You can’t know that.”

“I can, and I do.” 

Matt shakes his head minutely. “You weren’t there.”

“Obviously not.” Her voice is dry. She’s never been one for self-flagellation and the small part inside Matt that’s still scared of her forces him to face her. “Matthew, I have something for you. Jack sent it to me, a long time ago.”

He holds out his hand, and she places in his palm a square of cardboard. Matt touches it with the fingertips of his other hand and feels the gloss of a photograph. There’s nothing discernible on the surface. He flips it over and feels two lines of braille across the top, and below that the indents of handwriting. He swallows. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Because I thought you might not have any other photos of the two of you.”

Matt shakes his head. “I don’t. I didn’t bring much when I moved to St. Agnes.”

“I’m aware. And I have others.” Matt’s holding the corner of the photo lightly between two fingertips, his hand resting on his thigh. She places her hand over the top of his, gently, tentatively, her skin cool and dry. “I’m glad you’re here.” He opens his mouth and her voice rises slightly in volume. “It’s not a game of relative worth, Matthew. I’m just glad that… We know each other.” Her touch disappears and she rises, swishing away from him and down the nave.

Matt flicks the sharp corner of the photo with the tip of his thumb. He had intended to go straight to their offices, but now he feels like he’s holding a bomb. How is it that the knowledge of what is printed on this paper has suddenly reopened the chasm of his grief, cleaving him anew? He’s used to ghosting through life, being half a man, trying to find a place for himself, the lone Murdock boy. He thought he had this. But suddenly he’s nine years old again, newly blinded and  _ so alone. _ He gets up before he starts crying, carefully slides the photo into his breast pocket and leaves the church. His feet lead him in the direction of his apartment. 

He doesn’t trust his voice, so he steps out of the flow of foot traffic and dictates a text to Foggy.

**_Buddy, can you come to my place?_ **

Foggy rings back almost immediately and Matt curses his devotion. “Matt? Are you okay?”

Matt swallows. “Yeah, Fog, I’m fine. I just… We promised each other honesty and I have something I need to tell you. I just can’t do it with Karen right now, not the both of you.” The words come out in a rush, and he sighs in relief when Foggy replies.

“Of course. I’ll pick up coffee on the way. See you soon.”

Matt ends the call, and walks on towards his apartment. 

When he steps inside, leaving the door ajar, he moves with purpose, placing his cane against the wall, his keys and glasses on the hall table, his satchel on the bench against the wall. He slips the photograph out of his breast pocket and positions it in the centre of the dining table, then hangs his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. He rolls his shoulders and shakes out his hands, feeling nervous and jittery. Or maybe just jittery. He finds himself pacing the floor, and when Foggy’s footsteps approach across the landing he forces himself to lean against the back of the couch, casual as never-you-mind.

“Hey. I’ve got coffee and bagels. Although of course you already knew that. Did you have any breakfast?” Matt pauses to consider then shakes his head, and Foggy pats him on the arm and takes a seat on the couch. Matt sits down beside him, taking the coffee with gratitude. He’s not sure about the bagel.

He takes a sip, then Foggy’s hand is on his thigh. “You’re twitching.” Foggy takes his hand away, leaving a cool spot, and Matt knows again that his aloneness is something Foggy can never understand. “Hey, it’s okay, Matty. I know what today is. I know it hurts. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Matt feels himself smile, despite himself. “Thanks, Fog. But, you don’t know it all. You don’t know that I’m half of what I should be.”

“Hey, no.” Foggy’s voice is low, a note of hurt. “Matty, don’t you ever think that not being able to see—”

“ _ No.”  _ Matt cuts him off. “This is not about blindness. It’s not about me.” He shakes his head, quick, grunts in frustration.

“Is this about your dad? Stick?”

“No. Look. We’re being completely honest now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, Matt, that’s the deal.”

“Yes, okay. So, this is something that I don’t talk about. And, mostly, that’s because it still fucking hurts, and you knowing wouldn’t change anything.”

“I want to make a joke about you being an open book, but I feel like this isn’t the time.” 

Matt laughs, in spite of himself, and rises to retrieve the photograph from the table. He holds it against his chest, over his heart, as he walks back, then holds it out to Foggy, still standing. “This is about him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Foggy’s heart stutters in shock. Slowly, he reaches for the photo. when he speaks, his voice is a whisper. “It’s you… And… you.”

“It’s me and Mikey. I’m on the right. There’s a caption on the back.”

Foggy flips the photo over and reads under his breath, “Michael and Matthew Murdock, 9th birthday.” Matt sits down next to Foggy and nods.

“Maggie gave it to me this morning. Can… can you describe it?”

Foggy blows out a breath, nodding. “Yeah, of course. You’ve got your arms slung around each other’s necks, your heads are touching and you’re both grinning at the camera. God, Matty, you’re  _ identical. _ ”

“I know. We were.”

“Were?”

“He died. In the accident that blinded me. We both ran out onto the road, and he was in front and he was thrown across the road.” Matt shakes his head at his clasped hands. “It should have been me.”

“God, no, Matty.” Foggy’s arm is around his shoulders and the tears that have been threatening  have started to fall. “It was an accident, that’s all. A horrible accident.”

“I should have told you I used to be a twin.”

“You still are. You’re just… a lone twin.”

Matt shakes his head. “I’m half a person. Together, we were whole.”

Foggy leans forward to place the photo on the coffee table, and when he moves back he snugs in even more closely behind Matt. “You, Matthew Michael Murdock, are a complete and amazing person. You might be an asshole at times but you’re still a whole man. Wait… your middle name?”

“We weren’t given middle names, so I took Michael, when I turned 18. To remember Mikey.”

Foggy’s breathing is uneven, and Matt realises that he’s crying. For a boy he never knew. 

“Matty and Mikey. I bet you two were dynamite for your dad.”

Matt gives a sniffly laugh. “Yeah.” He remembers running down the sidewalk, sneakers slapping on the pavement, chasing Mike’s dark, bobbing head as he dodged around pedestrians.

“Tell me about him?” Foggy asks.

Matt wipes his cheeks, smiles, and starts to tell Foggy about his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to sleepyMoritz for beta work. 
> 
> Tell me what you liked about this - I always love comments.


End file.
